Tuesday Morning. I peek out the window and it’s raining that special kind of fine drizzle that is unique to the Isle of Great Britain. It’s faint, but soaks you in no time. The thing is, I need to run today – I miss the early morning silence, the fresh air, hearing the world wake up, whilst others are heading home to sleep. And I need to ease the muscle soreness after going a bit over the top 2 days ago.
About 5 minutes into my run, the fine drizzle turns into blustery rain – another peculiarity about British weather is its very labile mood. I’ve past the point of no return though– turning back is not an option; so after a grunt of disgust, I zip up tight, turn up the volume on my iPod and run as fast as my thick aching thighs will let me for the next 25 minutes.
And this is what running does to your spirit – when you set your mind to do it, absolutely nothing gets in the way. You WILL finish what you started, regardless of the storms swirling around you.